I called Declan as I sped back toward the country fair and filled him in on what happened at the Dairy Queen. He was skeptical at first, but when I mentioned I was in such a rush to return to the western exhibition that I had forgotten my banana milkshake and left it on the table in my booth, he fell silent and I could tell even he was a bit rattled. We agreed to meet at the stables behind the Stetson Bowl rodeo arena not far from where Declan had choked out the clown and I stole the poor bastard’s clothes.
Damn it, I thought. If I ever got out of this mess, I owed that jester VIP tickets or signed wrestling merch or something after what my buzzed cousin had put him through. I parked in a disabled spot at the nearby casino, given its proximity to the stables, but barely gave it another thought. I suppose the fact I had talked an intellectually disabled man out of causing any more damage left me feeling like my cowboy karma offset the small parking violation.
I was hit by a now-familiar nasal punch, the odour of animal dung, as I entered the stables. It was a more formidable stench than I had encountered at the cow-pie bingo station, or from any excrement left behind by Sykes’s strategic stinker of a heifer. Weathered, yellow, stomped-on hay was strewn about messily between two rows of stalls. It was a far cry from the quality of the organic bales Sykes had been using for his Bovine Game of Manure Chance.
There was a deep and guttural neigh and then a whinny, followed by an ample amount of snorting. I realized that the stalls to my left were housing two giant Clydesdales. I had seen them pulling a carriage earlier when rolling up to the security portable where Kelly Lewis was held in custody before he had suddenly died. The other stalls contained average-size horses. As I walked alone through the stables, I spotted a placard on the first stall opposite the Clydesdales, which read ROSCO.
Annie’s bronco.
I noticed a half-eaten apple on the ground outside of Rosco’s enclosure. I picked it up and dusted it off, then fed it to the horse, who gobbled it up greedily.
“There you go, Boy,” I said, while petting the side of his long face. “Where’s your mama?”
That’s when I heard a hushed male voice from outside call her name.
“Annie!” the man said with urgency. “Annie, are you here?”
I ducked behind the end of Rosco’s stall, doing my best to shrink my bulk behind the wooden wall so I wouldn’t be noticed. The rusted metal hinges creaked as the door at the other end of the stables swung open and I heard heavy footsteps enter.
“Annie!” he chastised. “Quit playing around!”
At that moment, I realized Declan had snuck into the stables himself, and like me, was tucked behind the first stall on the other side of the animal shack. While I didn’t know how or when he had joined me, I wasn’t at all surprised. His IRA operative training made him stealthier than a jaguar in gym shoes. My cousin gave me a wink, and I nodded in return. United and ready, we held our positions as the person took slow, deliberate steps into the stables, the entire area silent save for the movement and occasional rustling of horses.
I sprung forward from around the corner of the stall, seeing Declan doing the same in my peripheral vision. A moment later we found ourselves face-to-face with the man who was looking for Annie.
Harland “Hot Saw” McGraw.
He was wearing the same sleeveless grey-and-white camouflage track suit he wore when I first encountered him in the axe-throwing alley of the loggersports pit, except this time he wasn’t wielding a hatchet.
“You!” he said, recognizing me.
“Hello, ‘Hot Saw,’” I replied. “Why are you looking for Annie?”
“Look, I’m sorry about before, okay?” he said, holding up his hands defensively. “I shouldn’t have hit you like that and run. I just panicked.”
“And why would you do that?” I asked, slowly closing the gap between us with Declan by my side.
McGraw let out an exasperated sigh. “This whole thing with Jasper and Kelly has gone haywire. It was just supposed to be a simple payoff so I could claim the STIHL sponsorship.”
“And now both of them are dead.”
“I had nothing to do with any of it. Come on, Man. You know my deal. My family is loaded. It’s not like I needed the money that comes with the backing from the Krauts. I just want to be the top guy and the face of loggersports in the Pacific Northwest.”
“Let’s stay focused here, Fellas,” interjected Declan, before pointing an accusatory finger toward McGraw. “Ya got one chance to tell the truth, ya understand? Or else I’m gonna beat yer arse senseless for what ya did to me cuz. Aye, they may call him ‘Hammerhead,’ and he’s got a skull like a stone, but if and when this bloody bastard takes one too many cracks to the noggin an’ winds up pissin’ into diapers while droolin’ in his wheelchair, I’m gonna be the one spoon-feedin’ him his mashed bananas.”
I shot Declan a curious look, unsure if what he said was a testament of our brotherly love or an insult.
“What do you want to know?” said McGraw.
Declan continued his interrogation before I could get a word in edgewise.
“The answer to the million-dollar question, Boyo.”
Both McGraw and I waited with baited breath as Declan lit a cigarette and took a drag before continuing.
“It’s true that ya lumberjokers call yer willies ‘hot saws,’ ain’t it?”
“What?” replied McGraw, confused.
“For crying out loud, Declan,” I scolded, having had enough of his drunken investigative line of thinking for one day. “Leave the sleuthing to me, will you?” Declan scoffed and threw his arms up in the air, but remained silent. I turned my attention back to McGraw.
“Why are you looking for Annie?” I asked.
“Because I thought she might know what’s going on.”
“How could she know?”
“Because this whole thing was her goddamn idea.”
I felt like I had been punched in the gut, but after my epiphany back at the Dairy Queen, McGraw was only confirming what I had already suspected.
“Explain,” I growled.
“Annie came to me first. Said she could grease the wheels and, along with Jasper’s boyfriend Kelly Lewis, they could convince him to drop out of the competition for the STIHL sponsorship if I dipped into my trust fund and paid him off.”
“Why would she do that?”
“To save their rodeo.”
“What do you mean?”
“She and her daddy Gus. They’re broke. And about to lose their business. So, in exchange for helping me secure the sponsorship, I promised I would use my new clout to ensure I remained with Pippen’s loggersports outfit and keep touring with their traveling rodeo. I even agreed to lend them some money to keep things afloat if need be, but with me as the new STIHL superstar working exclusively with them and Pippen, they’ll probably make out well enough.”
“Ya mean she just wanted to save her family business?” asked Declan.
I shot him a look and he shrugged his shoulders. “What? It’s just not that bad o’a move on her part, is all I’m sayin’. I’d probably do somethin’ similar if the Shillelagh was on the line.”
Declan had a point. While not exactly above board, if all Annie was trying to do was protect her and her father’s best interests, it wasn’t the most egregious transgression. And after what went down between me, the late Cassian Cullen, and his underground fight club, I was hardly in a position to take the moral high ground.
But I knew there was more to it than that. And I had to talk to Annie herself to get the answers I needed. “I bet I know where she is, D.”
“Then get after it, Mate. I’ll see what else I can get out o’this eejit,” he said, motioning toward McGraw.
“What if he tries to take off again?” I asked.
Declan took another puff of his cigarette and grinned ear-to-ear as he exhaled a stream of smoke. “Oh, don’ ya worry ’bout that.”
Declan nodded toward McGraw. Only then did I see half a dozen seniors on scooters roll into the stables behind the axe-thrower, who, just like the horses around us, was now penned in himself. McGraw noticed the stern-looking octogenarians behind him, led by Flo, who had her old-school, leather motorcycle goggles on and her mouth formed into a thin line as she gritted her dentures.
“Aye, that’s right, ya sack o’shite. Didn’t expect me to have a loyal mobile army o’the elderly, did ya?”
McGraw just glanced back and forth between us and the angry-looking geriatric gang on their ZooMe and Rascal machines.
“Go on, now,” said Declan. “Find Annie.”
I gave him a pat on the shoulder and left the stables, heading toward the one place I could think of where she might be.